


A mouthful of diamond and a handful of cuts

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, IDK about sex, M/M, Not until later chapters, There's some torture I guess, lots of characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-25 22:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1665437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You cannot do this and nor, can you live like this. It's time for you to see the other king and as an added bonus, to get these dumbass diplomats off your back for good.<br/>Inspired by the movie Elizabeth: The Golden Age.<br/>Rating subject to change as I maneuver my way though WHAT THE FUCK I SAID THAT WRONG and SHIT THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN IN LATER CHAPTERS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The crowning

**Just an fyi: ******

Kingdom of Dirk: Strider, Lalonde, Vantas, Maryam, Pyrope, Zahhak, Makara, Captor.  
Kingdom of John: Egbert(Crocker), Harley(English), Megido, Nitram, Leijon, Serket, Ampora, Peixes.

* * *

 

Your name is Dirk Martha Strider and you, oh this day, are about to be crowned King.

You’ve never imagined, that your father the king would die but he did and you, at the crowning age 16, are about to put on the golden signal of power. The crown. The ever looming thing is huge and now that it’s about to be put on your head, you think it’s far too big for you.

But it is put on your delicately styled spikes of blond hair and your close your eyes as you imagine how others see you. Powerful. Young. Strong. And of marriageable age, in a desirable position.

Weak, they are all weak. If they are to marry you at all, they must first prove they do not just want the crown but rather your heart and then, only then will you consider them a suitor.

“All Rise, for King Dirk Martha Strider, ruler of the Land of  Tombs and Krypton.” They all stand, awed and envious of the new king. He is young and brash but also thoughtful and decisive. He will make a great king they think. You can see it.

Your Land’s name is not truly the Land of Tombs and Krypton. Your father held it as the Land of  Red and Orange, in honor of your family’s unusual eye color. You have held it now as Tombs and Krypton as tradition dictates. A new king but rule over a new land name. It helps to distinguish eras of kings and of course, it’s a reflection of who you are.

You never thought you would need one but when you fairly young, your father told you a secret. A king’s land must be special to them and them only. No one else must influence their name. And then that set younger you to think, what was so special to him. And finally, when he was 13, he decided. His best friend was an adventurous boy with wild black hair and eyes greener than the jungles he explored. Tombs he would claim, were the most interesting things of the land. So that was Tombs. And Krypton, he had dreamed about becoming a mechanic and searched upon so many elements. He knew almost all of them now but his first, the one that had triggered it was his science studies. The first he learned of was Krypton. So his two most precious memories were missed and pressed into the land.

“Lord, no, King Strider.” Ah, the knights are lining to pledge their allegiance to you and you, as their new king, must accept it. You were once a knight along side your brother. You did this as well to the king, your father. His eyes twinkled with pride that day. You will never forget it, the light dancing in his amber eyes, so unlike now when he lie cold and calm in a white marble tomb.

“I pledge my heart, body, and soul to the land and to the sovereign that is King Dirk Strider. I lay down my life to him and shed my blood in his protection. All actions are my own and are for the wellbeing of the people, the king, the land. So help me God.” One by one, they repeated it, brushing their chapped, hard lips along your fingers that bare only one thing. A ring of simple silver with only one stone, a shining blue topaz gem of the smallest size, no bigger than pen tip. There are many knights you know from your days in training. Such dedication shines through them and masks all those that you do not know. Karkat is among the first to rise and say his pledge to you, adding a quirky “A fucking men.” to the end that makes your lips curl just slightly in a smile. Latula, one of the few female knights, clicks her tongue at you and winks before vanishing once more in the crowd and finally, only after all others, is your brother.

Your mother was the bearer of two sets of twins. A heavy burden on her who then died after the fourth and final child. Her last name was not Strider but rather Lalonde and your two sisters have her last name while you and your brother take your father’s.

It is that very brother who kneels and says his oath very slowly and precisely, staring you in the eyes the entire time. He does not kiss your hand but rests his forehead against it and exhales slowly as he murmurs, “Or so help me God.”  And then he adds one last bit. “So help me God, to protect my family.”

You’re about to cry now. You have never heard his voice so raw. And you, you bow your head. “Amen.” You murmur for his sake and he too, can hear the deathly soft notes of passion in your voice, passion to protect what is yours.

Now it is your turn and you clear your throat, addressing the entire population of your country, a large span of people that resemble a sea more than a crowd.

“Brothers, sisters. I stand before you, a king. My name, by birth, Dirk Martha Strider and as I have come to age, as I have survived sixteen brutal years of life, I stand before you man who swears on his life to protect what is right and true, what is to be controlled by you. My people, my loyal citizens, I only ask that you trust me, and that by all that I say and all that I do, that I will never lie to you. I have held my oath to keep power and I…” You pause for just a moment because this isn’t in the speech script. “I have decided I will not marry.” Gasps, shock and horror, rippled through the crowd both before you and  behind you. “I will pass down the throne to my brother and my sisters then to their heirs.” Whispers, murmured, God it sounds like an angry mob.

“I will work to protect you all and know that you are in safe hands. God bless you all.”

It’s silent. Then someone claps, your brother joined then by your sisters and then the crowd of advisors, the crowd of your people. The cheer is thunderous as they begin a chant. “Long live King Dirk! Long live King Strider! All hail!”

And you, your name is Dirk Martha Strider and never before have you felt such responsibility as this day, the day you were crowned king.


	2. The Diplomat (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Jake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day and already 44 hits and 4 kudos.  
> Thank you.  
> I apologize for any historical inaccuracies. Please notify me if you see one. I'll try to fix it. It's also unbetad until I get one.

Your name is David Elizabeth Strider, more commonly known as Dave and you fear for your brother’s life.

He has fallen ill, far too close to the time of his crowning that people whisper and they murmur. He was not blessed by God, he is merely a mortal man who is a fake. He is not a true king. He will not live to reign even a month.

But by God you will not let that happen. You have called upon the most trusted healer you know. Your sister, Rose Lalonde who is both trustworthy and intelligent. She steals into his room constantly to check up on him and you know that he is in sure hands.

She informs you that it is nothing serious. He is just ill from pressures and lack of proper nutrition and sleep. “He’s literally worked himself to being sick.” She commented wryly, feeding him a mixture of herbs and soup. He looks healthier after some days of proper sleep and nurturing.

It fills you with joy to know that he will be alright in a few days. Your sister allows no food other than her own special broth and Dirk has confessed that it tastes “like a donkey’s ass that’s never been cleaned.” He’s joking of course and you know it well.

You are knight and by that law you are allowed much time by his side but he shoos you away, insisting that you go down to the pages’ field and  train them.

They are all fairly young, only first years really. Or at least your lot is. They all dig at the swords, picking the largest though you have to sort them out and give them a blade that balances in their hands. You start with the most basic move, a parry and use the knight down there as a partner. Figures it would be Karkat but he’s easier to work with than Latula at least. He growls at you and you smirk, gesturing for him to attack. He does with a jab you known you can parry and he knows too. You do so with speed and then and pause and tell him again but slower so you and show them how to do it. He rolls his eyes but complies, grumbling as you demonstrate in slow motion. Their eyes are wide with awe as they watch your languid and lazy movement.s. “Ready to try kids?” They all jump up and pair off, eager.

“Nice fucking work Strider. I might not have bruises this time!”

“Shut it Vantas, you were fine.

“Hmph.”

“Di-Davey! Davey, Davey, Dave!” It’s who now? Roxy, woa-

She’s not heavy but when she’s running at you full speed and jumps on you, you tend to fall. And you do, slamming into the dirt as he grins in her breeches. She’s not wearing a ladylike dress that she SHOULD BE but honestly you don’t care. She looks better in a cotton shirt that hangs around her body loosely and breeches, boots of the finest leather that are scuffed up with dirt. Her blonde hair is tangled and shining in the light and she looks absolutely ecstatic.

“Sup Roxanne.” You’re doing this purposely because you know she hates being called Roxanne.

“Roxy.” She corrects you anyways. “Davey! Dirk’s just become king and do you know what that means?” When you roll your eyes, she smacks your shoulder. “You’re next in line!”

“Yell a little louder Rox, don’t think the Land of Beat and Trust could hear you.” That’s the neighboring kingdom, something you don’t need to talk about yet.

“Shouldn’t you be ex-ci-ted?!” She’s practically screaming at you now and you roll your eyes again.

“Rox, calm yourself and get off me.” You shove her off, sending her into the dust with an oof! “Rox, you know I don’t give a flying fuck about the stupid line. Anyways, is Dirk doing okay?”

She shrugged. “Same old Dave. Nothing really changing. The upward climb to health hasn’t stopped at all.”

You stand and offer a hand which she rejects, jumping to her feet and dusting off herself.

“So the Masquerade.” Timeout, this is seriously important.

The Masquerade was the biggest ball in all of any kingdom. There were several out there but for time’s sake, we’ll talk about LOTAK and LOBAT (Land of Beat and Trust). These two kingdoms were incredibly interconnected and the kings and queens constantly married one of the other kingdom’s heirs/princes/princess/whatever. Very rarely was an outside brought in. Dave’s mother was an outsider as was John’s in the other kingdom’s. The Masquerade was what brought everyone together. It was usually held on the border in a rather large castle of neither kingdom’s personal property. It was grand for sure with gardens filled to the brim in foreign flowers and the largest ballroom of anywhere within several countries.

Each year, a dance was held twice. Once on April 13th, John’s birthday and once December 5th, just after the Stri-Lalonde’s respective birthdays. The April one was drawing close, a mere two weeks. The ball was one that incorporated anyone it could. It didn’t matter if you were poor as dirt or rich as the heavens, anyone could attend. They rule however, was that you had to wear a mask. Dave always wore the same one as did the rest of the royal families. Dresses and suits were optional of course. The party was always a big hit and the two kingdoms were always very satisfied with the results, toasting to another year of cheer and goodwill.

“You going?” Dave knew the answer already-

“OF COURSE I’M GOING!” Roxy loved the ball and went every year in a different dress but the same mask.

“Right, right. Karkat?”

“I don’t know nookstain, see I have a life and all but I mean if it’s oh SO fucking important that I go, I guess I could entertain you buttermonkeys for a short while.” That’s probably a yes.

“Ro-”

“David, I have something I wish to tell you.”

In the excitement, Dave had missed Rose walking up in her lavender dress that swished and swirled. It was a lovely dress that she picked the hem up to not brush the dust.

“Dirk?”

“No dear brother, he is not dead. He is recovering just fine. I have actually come to inform you that the diplomats of Land of Beat and Truth have arrived and are currently awaiting you in the conference room. You’d best be going to see them now.”

“Me?”

“Yes David, as Dirk is ill and cannot see them, you are next in charge and you must meet them. I will of course, be there to help you.” A small, catlike smile graced her lips.

Gulping, you got up and dusted yourself off, nodding shakily to her. “Let’s go.” And then you swept off with Rosaline following silently behind to the meet the damn diplomats that had come at the worst time.

Your name is Dave Strider and you’re not the fucking king and so you’re not supposed to be meeting the damn diplomats.


	3. The Diplomat (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing one Jake English.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect this to get hits what.

Your name is still Dave Strider and you’re sitting uncomfortably in a room of people, one of which is Rose. She’s in her formal wear and you in your less dusty clothing. It’s only less dusty because you brushed yourself off with some help by Rose who efficiently got most of it off. Now you’re only the SLIGHTLY dusty prince knight.

“Sir, the border’s trading skirmishes have gotten to large for the army of ours to control.” The diplomat did not sound sorry or respective as was the old one but rather jaunty and eager.

He was not the same diplomat. Like land names, the diplomat changed with the king.

“Those scoundrels don’t know what the meaning of courage and adventure is! I would give them a strong kick out of the country but unfortunately, I wasn’t designed as a soldier.” He didn't sound sorry about that either.

“And you want our army to control it?” You sound rather bored, much to your amusement. His face doesn’t fall though.

His name is Jake, with the MOST ridiculous last name ever: ENGLISH. He’s got floppy black hair that is absolutely wild, curly and untamed and clearly never met a brush. He has glasses that are square or rather rectangular and those are perched on a face that is completely and utterly tan. A smooth plane of tan which emerald green eyes sparkle. He has buck teeth that make for the goofiest smile and his dress is laughable but in a good way. He was dressed in pants designed for travel and a shirt that was loose and hung around his bulky frame just barely. It was almost stuck to his skin he was so toned with muscle and not fat. God he was just a built all around explorer.

“I don’t but my king does.” How rare, a diplomat that does not listen to his king. Unruly and untamed just like his hair. You peer at the spread of papers without really seeing them.

“Tell your king we will be the border patrol but only until you all gather your army together.” Jake nodded, bowing his head only slightly.

“One other thing.” Oh great, here it comes. “His majesty is of marriageable age and his father’s dear wish, the former king’s wish as it were, is for him to marry the current king of your country.” Yep there it is.

“Ah, there I can’t answer you because as you see, I’m not the king.” You curl your lips in a smirk, standing. Dirk will reject it, you know it.

“Very well sir.” He bows his head, smiling. “I suppose that’ll be an issue for another day then.”

You don’t like him, you don’t like him at all. He’s too happy, to bubbly. He’s too excited for your tastes yet you find him intriguing. He’s an explorer, an adventurer. He has so many stories to tell, worldly knowledge spills unbound from his eyes. Yes he interests you but you do not like him.

The other ‘diplomats’ step to the side as you and he exit the room with Rose following quickly behind. She whispers in your ear, “Well handled.” Pride lights in you for only a moment.

“I didn’t think so Rosaline, I sounded a little too rough don’t you think?” You're teasing with her because you know for a fact you sounded perfect.

She scoffs and draws up her skirts in a swish of fabric. “Nonsense. Now if you’ll excuse me.” And there she goes, off to check your brother or meet with her chambermaids to pick a nice outfit for dinner.

You watch her retreating figure only a little longer before sweeping of to show your guests their chambers. They won’t stay too long, just until their business is done. You ask them to dinner and the rest decline except for Jake who seems to be the leader. “Of course chum, I’ll be there!” And then he winks and vanishes into his quarters, leaving you perplexed at the doorway.

You leave after a few minutes as well, striding back to your own rooms, grand and open. They’re enclosed in the west wing, the side of the sunset. When the sunset comes, it bathes your rooms in red light as so matches your eyes. Speaking of which, Jake didn’t seem so shocked or afraid of them as the others did. It leaves you feeling a trickle of warmth as you shrug out your dust and slip on new clothes.

When you leave the room, you’re completely different. Your hair is brushed and styled to be to one side and is soft to the touch like silk. If the wind blew, it would float about your head almost like a halo. Then you washed your face so you were all pale skin and freckles again. Your clothes were more royal, loose fitting black trousers and a clean white tunic draped over with a belt tied over a red shirt that’s cool against your skin. You’re not really ornate so you left off the cloak and wore your nice pair of shoes, black leather, rarely worn actually. You hold yourself up with the air of a prince and an honored knight and when you burst into the dining room, you see everyone already standing by their chairs.

Jake is dressed similarly to you but for red he exchanged green and for black, brown. He has a necklace on, one that is made of simple leather and a single, carved charm. Not very big of a charm of course.

Rose is dressed in a deep purple dress, the corset just loose enough to allow her to breathe and her long hair piled in a loosely tied bun. Her dress is layered which gives the hoop effect but she does not have the wire beneath. It’s decorated along the neckline with jewels of all sizes in mostly peridot and amethyst. The sleeves are not puffed like before but slim and along the thickness of her own arms.  A necklace of pearls rings her neck, tight almost like it’s choking her. Her cheeks are rosy and her eyes dark with thought.

Roxy too is wearing something similar but a vibrant pink and with rubies lining her top. Her necklace hangs a little looser with a chain of gold and a gem of emerald. Her dress sleeves do puff and they are short in contrast to Rose’s long ones. Her hair has it’s signature curl in it and is down, tumbling over her shoulders.

And what a surprise, Dirk is there. He looks much better than before with Roses care. Pale but not too much. His cheeks are flushed lightly, a trail of the sickness no doubt. He is dressed as a king should be with long black pants and a proper top of an orange tunic over a red shirt. He has a cape, a wide and long thing that you know he only wore for the sake of the diplomat, for the sake of being a courteous king. It is made of the finest fabric and sparkles with gems that have been sewn in. A fur lined collar, white, lines Dirk’s already pale skin. It is a rich golden color that match his spiked hair and go surprisingly well with the outfit. The crown rests on his head though you can see how uncomfortable he looks in that getup.

You stand by your chair. “Sorry I’m late, got caught up trying to change into this.” You catch sight of a knight by the door. Karkat in his armored breastplate and a deep wine colored shirt to outline grey pants His sword scabbard dangles by his side loosely, sword sheathed away safely though you know he’d whip it out instantly if the situation demanded that.

“Sit, sit.” Dirk shakes his head as though he doesn’t care. “Dinner was just about to start.” He sits first though and then you all sit.

As you look around, you can’t help but feeling something is going to happen.

Your name is Dave Strider and as you sit here, awaiting your food, you feel that some turning point has just been hit and something life changing will be happening soon.

 


End file.
